


Periwinkle and Gold

by AgentStannerShipper



Series: Star Trek Bingo 2020 [20]
Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Episode: s02e09 The Measure of a Man, F/M, Getting Together, Light Angst, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, and lack thereof, choosing your own soulmate, i love soulmate aus and i love the implications of that in star trek, tasha is a little jaded and for good reason
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-13
Updated: 2020-08-13
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:01:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25851769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AgentStannerShipper/pseuds/AgentStannerShipper
Summary: Every race in the Federation has some concept of soulmates. It's enough to make Tasha, a woman without a soulmark, feel alone in the universe. Then again, Data doesn't have a soulmark either, and he seems to be doing just fine.
Relationships: Data/Tasha Yar
Series: Star Trek Bingo 2020 [20]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1875274
Kudos: 26
Collections: Star Trek Bingo Summer 2020





	Periwinkle and Gold

**Author's Note:**

> For the bingo prompt "soulmates." Data is an android. Giving him a legit soulmate felt like cheating, somehow. But I like my 'workaround' better. I love every form of soulmate au, but ones where you choose your soulmate? Perfect.

The universe was a curious thing. You didn’t have to be a scientist to acknowledge it. Not everything had an explainable answer, and while in some cases you could make your best guess, in others it was better to just admit that you might never know.

The curiosity of soulmates fell best under both categories. Every race known to the Federation had some concept of them, and some – like the Vulcans – had even gone so far as to find partial explanations. Of course, the wording wasn’t always the same, nor was the manifestation. Vulcans had several words for the variety of soulmates that appeared, the most revered being the t’hy’la bond, and it was easily determined for the telepathic race by the touching of minds. The Klingon word translated to ‘twin sword,’ like dual-wielded blades forged together. A Klingon knew their soulmate by the wounds sustained in battle: any wound inflicted on them, their soulmate experienced as well. Betazoids called them ‘heart mirrors,’ empaths in perfect harmony, and Cardassians took the word from a desert flower of their homeworld which bloomed in intertwined pairs with joined roots, reflected in the _Chu’en_ darkening to deeper blue at contact. Even the Ferengi had a concept of it, the term built from a concept of the greatest wealth one could achieve. In all cases, soulmates came in a variety of bonds, including romantic, platonic, and familial, and despite what some romantics chose to think, it would hardly be accurate to say that there was only one for everyone. There were levels of compatibility, and a soulmate bond could be strengthened, or it could be broken. And as the different races had made their way to the stars, it had become apparent that a soulmate could transcend one’s own species: Captain James T. Kirk and his half-Vulcan t’hy’la Spock stood as one of the most famed examples.

On Turkana IV, soulmates were a laughable concept. Oh, they knew the stories, and they bore the marks – barely – but no one on the face of the planet had known anyone to find a soulmate as far back as they could remember. It was a child’s fairytale, left over from the burning Earth they’d fled from. A soulmate was a liability, and on Turkana, any liability was liable to get you killed. Tasha hadn’t understood, when she’d been rescued by the starship, why the humans who found her felt the need to check her wrist. They’d scrubbed the grime away, bearing the skin, and although Tasha had snarled, twisting from their grip at the touch, she’d heard them, crouched where she was behind the sickbay beds as the doctors whispered in horror about the almost invisible marking, such a faint blue against the skin that it could have been mistaken for the shadow of a vein, the pattern impossible to make out. Earth hadn’t seen a soulmate marking so light in generations.

And light it had stayed, even when Tasha latched onto Darryl Adin, his soul mark a pale blue squiggle that looked a little like hers if you squinted, the older man all too eager to take advantage of her desperately offered advances. It had stayed light when Tasha had slept her way through what seemed like half of Starfleet Academy, trying to figure out why no one could make the mark darken. And it had stayed light when Tasha had given up sex and tried to bolster her friendships, struggling to connect in a culture that was so different from the one she’d known as a child. By the time she got to _Enterprise_ , Tasha felt safe. She felt fulfilled in her work. And she’d made peace with the fact that she was defective, that something about being born on Turkana, a world without soulmates, had made it so that hers would never darken more than a shade.

Maybe that was why she gravitated towards Data so much. He was an android, an artificial life form, and his wrist was completely blank. He’d been designed without even a false indicator of a soul mark. He couldn’t have a soulmate. They were close, Tasha thought. She felt more at home with Data than she had anywhere else. After the polywater incident, part of her had been terrified. It was irrational, but she’d checked her wrist, half expecting something impossible to happen. But her mark had stayed pale, and Data’s skin remained perfectly blank. Part of her had been relieved, another part disappointed. But they’d put that behind them, and Tasha wouldn’t have traded her friendship with Data for all the soulmates in the universe.

“Does it ever bother you?” she asked him once, sitting on the floor of his quarters, stacks of PADDs surrounding her as she went through her reports.

Data had looked up from his computer and cocked his head, considering. “To say it ‘bothers’ me would presuppose that I can feel a particular way about it. I am an artificial lifeform. To our knowledge, only sentient, organic lifeforms possess the capacity for identifying soulmates. I would be automatically discounted from that definition.”

“But if you could have one,” Tasha pushed. “Would you want one?” She wrapped a hand around her wrist, thumb rubbing at the skin.

Data shrugged. “I do not know. I have accepted that a soulmate is not something I will ever possess.”

“You’ll never be really human either,” Tasha pointed out. “But you keep working towards that.”

He blinked. “And interesting comparison.” He smiled, faintly. “I suppose, under that assumption, yes. I would want a soulmate, someone who understands me, and who both accepts me as I am, and shares in my desire for improvement.” He tilted his head at her. “Do you want a soulmate?”

Tasha stared at the floor. “I’m…probably not going to get one either,” she said. She dug her thumb in harder, until the skin ached, as if by rubbing at it she could rub the damned thing off. “I’m defective.”

“You do not know that,” Data said. “Perhaps you have simply not met anyone compatible yet. Regardless, there are several studies of people who choose to never pursue finding a soulmate, romantic or platonic. The majority continue to lead fulfilling lives. I see no reason why you could not do the same.”

Tasha looked up at him, watching him even after Data turned back to his work. She didn’t really need a soulmate, she supposed. It would have been nice, to have a lover or a friend that she could share such a deep connection with. But she had her work, and her friends on the _Enterprise_. She had Data, who had never looked at her with pity, had never squeezed her wrist like he had the right to touch her and murmured that “you don’t have to worry, dear, I’m sure you’ll find someone eventually” in that condescending tone. When she was with him, the thought of a soulmate didn’t really matter. She already had everything she needed to be happy.

***

_“…we do not deny that Mr. Data does not, and cannot to our knowledge have a soulmate. Soulmates have a basis in biology, and as Mr. Data is not a biological organism it would be inappropriate to impose such a standard on him, particularly when we can see just how profound an emotional impact he has had on the many people around him in spite of that lack…”_

It was probably unbecoming of a Starfleet officer to sit on the floor outside a conference room, knees tucked to their chest and their head hung, waiting to hear news of a trial that wasn’t really about them anyway. Unbecoming, maybe, but Tasha didn’t care. It wasn’t her shift on the bridge, and even though she’d tried to distract herself, tried to work out or practice her aikido forms or _anything_ that would keep her mind off Data, she hadn’t been able to banish from her mind the very real fact that if Captain Picard didn’t win this case, she was likely to never see the android again. Commander Maddox would take him away, would _break him_ , and the best friend Tasha had ever had would be gone for good. She wasn’t the only one worried. She’d hung around in Engineering, underfoot until they’d kicked her out, watching Geordi pace, his movements jerky and frustrated. They were all anxious. Data might not have been her soulmate, might not have been any of their soulmate, but he was their friend.

She looked up when the door opened, and Data stepped out. She scrambled upright, scanning his face for any hint of the outcome, heart in her throat. “How’d it go?” she asked, hesitant but hopeful. She could read Data well enough after over a year of knowing him, even if he wasn’t the most expressive. There was no hint of concern or distress on his face. He smiled at her.

“Captain Louvios has ruled in my favor,” he told her. “When I was ruled a person, not property, Commander Maddox withdrew his request for my transfer. I will be remaining on board the _Enterprise_.”

Tasha couldn’t even be embarrassed by her uncharacteristic squeal; she was too busy throwing herself at Data, wrapping her arms around his neck to hug him tightly. His hands came up to encircle her, patting her back gently, and she blushed when she withdrew. “Sorry.”

“Do not apologize. I am also pleased with the outcome.”

They both looked up as the door slid open again, the captain stepping out, followed by the judge advocate. The latter gave Tasha a very long look that she couldn’t decipher, although the way her eyes flicked down to Tasha’s wrist, even covered by her uniform, was telling. Tasha’s jaw clenched, and she forced herself not to puff up in indignation. Captain Louvois went her way, and Picard smiled at them, patting Data briefly on the shoulder before he folded his hands back behind him. “Congratulations, Mr. Data. Seems I won’t be losing my second officer after all.”

“You have my thanks, Captain,” Data said. “I appreciate that you were willing to defend me as you did.”

“You’re a member of my crew,” Picard said, as if it brooked no argument. “I’ll see you back on board. Commander, Lieutenant.” He nodded at them politely, and Tasha watched him go.

“We should get back too,” she murmured. “Geordi’ll want to know that he’s not about to lose a best friend.”

Data gave a nod of acknowledgement, falling into step beside her as they followed after the captain. He hesitated, and then said, “I believe I owe you an apology.”

“What? Why?” Tasha glanced at him, frowning at the deep concern in Data’s expression.

He did not meet her eyes. “During the trial, Captain Picard cited examples of the bonds I have formed with others as proof of my sentience. My friendship with Geordi, for example. And…” He looked to the floor.

Tasha grasped his meaning. “Oh.” She reached out and squeezed his hand. “It’s okay.”

“I should not have revealed personal information of that nature. You indicated-“

“I know what I said,” Tasha interrupted gently. She’d had a lot of regrets about the polywater incident. Telling Data that it hadn’t happened was one of them. Now, it felt almost too late. She cleared her throat, averting her gaze carefully, although she didn’t let go of Data’s arm. “The captain asked me when he was preparing. He’d…sort of guessed, after everything that happened that day. He wanted to know if it was alright for him to bring it up.”

Data blinked. “And you gave him your permission?”

“I couldn’t lose you,” Tasha said. She swallowed hard. “Data, I would have kissed you in the court room if I thought it would have meant you staying.” It was a dangerously intimate admission, but it was the truth.

Data’s hand covered hers, bringing them to a halt in the middle of the corridor. He turned to her, and Tasha faced him, looking up to meet his gaze. There was something achingly sweet about his expression, the wonder and gratitude he managed to convey with barely more facial expression than a Vulcan. “Then it seems I owe you my thanks as well,” he said.

Tasha shook her head. “You don’t owe me anything.”

“Still. You have my gratitude.”

They resumed walking, and Tasha kept her eyes on the floor, trying to quell the rising tide of conflicted feelings inside her. Yes, she would have kissed Data in front of Captain Louvois if it meant keeping him on the _Enterprise_. But she was starting to realize, after over a year of friendship, that that wasn’t the only reason she would have done it.

There was a party in one of the holodecks, Data’s friends celebrating his safe return to them. Tasha had to admit, she had no idea why Doctor Pulaski had been invited, but she kept those feelings to herself. She watched Geordi laughing, smiling at the way he slapped Data on the back, drawing his friend into a tight hug. Riker skulked a little nervously around the edges, and Deanna approached him briefly, murmuring something to him that Tasha suspected had something to do with guilt. She knew Data didn’t blame him, and she didn’t either. She doubted anyone did; after all, in order to save his friend, he’d very nearly had to condemn him. Riker didn’t seem entirely reassured, but as the evening wore on he loosened up, until he was laughing and joking with the rest of them.

Tasha stayed mostly to the side, almost startled when Deanna sidled up to her. The empath gave her a knowing look. “You’re going to rub your skin raw if you keep that up.”

Tasha released her wrist abruptly. She hadn’t even been aware that her thumb was over her pathetic excuse for a soul mark. She folded her hands behind her back.

Deanna’s smile was sympathetic. “You love him, don’t you?”

Tasha didn’t let the instinctual panic that the thought struck through her show on her face. “You’re the empath,” she said. “You tell me.”

“You keep expecting it to darken, don’t you? The more you’re with him?”

On reflex, Tasha’s eyes fell to her wrist. She shoved her sleeve down over the pale lines. “It’s not going to happen. He can’t…”

“Can’t feel? Can’t return your feelings?” Deanna tipped her head in acknowledgement. “Perhaps that’s true. I can’t read him. But then, there are many species that Betazoids can’t read. And Data is unique.”

Tasha glanced at her, incredulous, but Deanna’s gaze was pointedly directed away. “You can’t possibly be saying what I think you’re saying.”

“I’m not saying anything,” Deanna said, putting on an air of innocence that completely betrayed the side-look she snuck at Tasha. Deanna’s own sleeve had ridden up, exposing the deep blue mark she shared with Riker, courtesy of the human half of her heritage. Tasha looked down at it, and then back across the room at Data.

“He’s my best friend,” she murmured. “And I think, other than Geordi, I might be his. We…understand each other.”

“That sounds like what soulmates are made of to me.”

“He’s an android. And I’m…”

“You aren’t defective, Tasha,” Deanna scolded gently. Tasha accepted it; she’d used the word in Deanna’s earshot often enough to be familiar with the admonishment. “Not having a defined soul mark doesn’t make you any less of a person.”

Tasha bit back the retort on her tongue, staring at her shoes. Deanna nudged her gently. “I’m not saying you should try to form a relationship with him. Data…still has a lot to learn about human emotion. I wouldn’t want you to get hurt like that. But anyone can see that you’re close. And that’s worth something. Soulmates or not.”

Reluctantly, Tasha nodded, but she didn’t say anything. Deanna took it as the end of the conversation, watching Tasha for a minute before she rejoined the party, leaving Tasha on the sidelines to turn the words over in her mind.

When she turned up at Data’s quarters that evening, he didn’t appear surprised to see her. Tasha felt jittery as he let her in, forcing herself to sit on his sofa, her hands balled into tight fists around her prize, clenched in her lap as she fought not to bounce her feet. Data sat opposite her without a word. He cocked his head, waiting.

Finally, Tasha said, “I want to be your soulmate.” The words punched out of her, so fast that they blurred together, but when Data blinked in surprise she knew it wasn’t because he hadn’t understood. She swallowed. “I…I’ve been thinking about it. And I know…we’re different, right? You and me, we aren’t…like everyone else.”

“That is an accurate statement,” Data agreed. He was still watching her, as if curious.

Tasha nodded. She clenched her hands a little tighter. “So I was thinking,” she said. “If…I mean, you said once that you’d be interested in having a soulmate. And I…we get along so well, and I think I understand you better than anyone here, and I know you understand me more than anyone I’ve ever talked to. And I know that it doesn’t just happen, that we’d still have to communicate, to talk, check in with each other, but I’m willing to try if you are.” She took a deep breath. “So…I’m offering. To be your soulmate. If you…if you want that too.”

Data hesitated. He sat forward, lacing his fingers together. “For clarification, are you suggesting a platonic bond, or a romantic one? There are several variations.”

Tasha’s heart clenched, a sweep of longing pulsing through her. She clamped down on it. “Platonic,” she said, against every other impulse on her body. “I…I’m not ready. For something romantic. Right now.”

“I understand.” Data smiled. He had such a lovely smile, Tasha thought. She didn’t know how she had ever thought it looked fake.

“So, is that a yes?” she asked.

Data nodded. “I am closer to you than I have been to almost anyone else in my acquaintance. I feel…friendship for you in a way I have not otherwise experienced. So, yes. I would like to be your soulmate, as far as the word is applicable in this case.”

Tasha released a breath, grinning into her sigh of relief. “Good,” she said. “That’s…that’s good. I’m glad.” She looked down at her hands. “I, uh…I brought something. In case…well, I hoped you’d say yes.” Data cocked his head, and Tasha uncurled her fingers, displaying the dark blue marker laying across her palms. Data took it from her, and Tasha gave a nervous shrug. “We don’t have to. But…it is kind of traditional, and since it’s not going to happen naturally…”

She cut off as she looked at Data. He was beaming, clearly delighted. He uncapped the marker, holding his hand out, and Tasha gave him her wrist, turned up. His hand was gentle against her, his fingers strong but not calloused like a human in his position might have been, and Tasha inhaled sharply at the first touch of the cool marker tip against her skin. Data paused, glancing at her, but she shook her head, smiling slightly, and he nodded, focusing instead on his work, and Tasha watched him trace the vague outline of her barely-visible soul mark, darkening the pale lines to a deep, rich blue, his brow furrowed slightly with concentration. It was a little more stylized than many of the marks Tasha had seen – there were common patterns, and a more similar pattern indicated higher compatibility. This one swirled beautifully, shaping before her eyes in a way she’d never seen before, a series of curving and angular lines offset with small circles.

Like a circuit board, she thought, and forced herself not to blush. Wishful thinking.

Data sat back, lifting the marker and considering his handiwork. He offered it, and he wrist, out to her. “Would you like to do mine?”

This time, Tasha did blush. “You’d probably do a better job than me. I’m not much of an artist.”

“It does not have to be exact,” Data told her. “But if you are willing, I would like the drawing to be yours.”

He was so earnest about it that there was nothing for Tasha to do but take the pen. She laid his palm flat, resisting the urge to stroke those beautiful fingers, checking her own wrist for comparison as she painted the mirror image onto his. The blue stood out sharply against the white-gold of his bioplast, inhuman, but somehow strangely fitting because of it. Tasha’s work was a little more lopsided than his, her lines less precise, but it was a good match. Almost perfect. She sat back, capping the marker, and Data examined his wrist, smiling first at it, then at her.

“Thank you,” he murmured.

Tasha shook her head. Her throat stuck, and she rubbed her thumb gently against her own mark, careful not to smudge the ink. She couldn’t make the words come out, could barely keep the prickle behind her eyes at bay, blinking rapidly against the tears that threatened to bead up. For a moment, Data looked alarmed. Then understanding smoothing across his features.

She startled a little when he wrapped his arms around her, the hug not entirely a smooth gesture, but warm and comforting all the same. She leaned into it, letting out a shaky breath of release. Data kissed her forehead, then rested his chin on top of her head. It was the right thing to do. What a soulmate would do. So maybe the universe hadn’t given Tasha a biological match, a soulmate she could know just by the mark on her skin. But it had given her Data. It wouldn’t be easy, but Tasha Yar had never taken the easy way in her life. No, Data was perfect. Data was exactly what she needed. She didn’t want anything less.


End file.
